Iron Butterflies (4 page)

“A dubious descendant?” I finished for her.

“But that you truly are not—you are of the Blood!” She nodded her head emphatically. “Has not the Elector already procured for you the title of Countess of the Empire? As such you can take a high position. But you have to fear the will of the Princess Adelaide. She is his only remaining daughter, and she never married. She was too much of a Wittlesbach to take a lesser match than a ruling prince, and no greater one was offered. Though”—she laughed maliciously—“when they hastened to marry off King George's sons so that there might be a heir, she fancied her right to be one of those choices. Now she has consoled herself with religion and has been appointed Lady Abbess of Guern— though she spends more time at court striving, as she avers, to convert her father to pious ways, than she does at her abbey.”

I wondered why the Grafin had never been moved during her babbling concerning the court to mention before this particular obstacle in my path. I was about to break my self-imposed rule of not asking blunt questions when the door of the golden room opened and one of the lackeys announced:

“Baron von Werthern.”

The man, who entered with the ease of one perfectly at home, indeed bore some resemblance to that miniature the Grafin had so coyly displayed. But the artist had flattered him by thinning down the pouchiness of his jowls, setting his small eyes farther a part. He might be termed good-looking, or possibly so—in a coarse
way; and he carried his thick body with more grace than one would expect. Also the uniform he wore lent him eye-catching attention. He crossed the room in a stride far heavier than that of Colonel Fenwick and raised the Grafin's hand to thick lips.

“Konrad! But we thought you on maneuvers.” She became all fluttering eyelashes and smiles. “What a magnificent surprise!”

Surprise it was not, I was sure. She was already turning to me.

“Grafin von Harrach, may I present Baron Konrad von Werthern.” She spoke as if calling my attention to some treasure as great as any guarded in the Elector's famous tower.

“Gracious lady.” Now he bowed to me. His English was guttural, far more accented than the Grafin's. “We have been waiting impatiently for your arrival.”

I curtsied as I would to any gentleman upon introduction. But I did not extend my hand. I felt distaste at the very thought of having his lips touch my flesh. He was eyeing me in a bold way which I disliked almost as much.

Having lived most of my life in such a reclusive fashion, I had very little knowledge of the ways of men, and I certainly never expected to awaken instant admiration in a stranger. Neither had I thought to be surveyed as if I were a slave on an auction block— which was the only way I could describe the look which the Baron turned on me. I withdrew to the settee and met that stare coolly with I hoped some of my grandmother's quelling cast of countenance.

The Grafin broke into feverish chatter, as if the result of this introduction was not what she had expected. Did she believe her friend so completely overpowering in his person that I would goggle at him bemused? I was perplexed now as to whether it would be considered the discreet action for me to withdraw, leaving her to entertain her favored guest in private.

Before I could put my desire into effect, as if she sensed my intention, she was on the settee beside me,
one of my hands caught in hers as an anchorage. Perhaps I was to serve as a chaperon, or maybe it was my drabness she desired to enhance her own sparkling affinity with that vividly bright room!

I wag given little time to dwell on either suggestion, for the Baron deliberately moved a chair close to
my
side of the settee, seating himself, and leaning a little forward to address a series of pompous and dull questions.

Had I found our traveling unduly fatiguing? What was my impression of Axelburg? Each time he waited for my reply as an instructor might wait for the proper answer from a dull pupil. I was certain that he was playing some sort of a role and his real emotion was that of boredom. The Grafin kept glancing from one to the other of us as she might watch some absorbing action in a play. Nor did she appear in the least irritated that her cavalier was focusing his full attention on me.

I replied shortly concerning the bare facts of our journey. As for Axelburg, I spoke the entire truth.

“Of that, sir, I have seen so little I have not gained any reliable impression of it.”

He appeared to brighten a little. “That can be changed, Countess. It would give me, for one, the greatest of pleasures to make known to you our city. A city of which we are justly proud.” His stilted speech had the ring of sarcasm to me, and I did not like the way he kept leaning farther and farther forward in his seat as if to give the impression that we two were speaking privately. I felt rather than saw Grafin Luise stir. Was she now about to call her cavalier back to his rightful allegiance?

“It would be of all things a great pleasure for you, Amelia.” (For the first time she used my name familiarly and I resented it.) “So we shall arrange it. But, of course, not at present. Remember Konrad, the Countess von Harrach must remain in—or rather shall we say stay here quietly—until she has been received by His Highness and his will be known.”

It came to me as sharply then as if the gemmed dagger ornament which pinned up the Gräfin's tall topknot of curls had been drawn and presented as a weapon in truth. Foolishly I had walked into this house, this city—this—
trap!

I had been so intent upon my own reasons for coming here that I had never, until this moment, seen what might lie on the other side of my plan. This was a strange country in which I was unknown, of which I was ignorant. Could I accept
anything
which had been told me? Perhaps in parts—to someone— The Elector— maybe—I was of value, or Colonel Fenwick and the von Zreibrukens would not have been dispatched to bring me. But had I value as a tool, a piece to be played in some intrigue? My first fear was heated by slow anger—not only at those about me—but at myself—and my folly. I had to use full control not to rise and go to the door, strive to pass through it and out of this old house, just to see if I could in truth be allowed that freedom. Out of my gathering anger I answered the Grafin with all the care I could summon and in the calmest tone I knew.

“Since I am unknown, what would it matter? If I chose to see something of the city, who would recognize me?” It was a test question, the best I could devise at such short notice.

I saw the edge of her white teeth show as they closed for a second or two on her full underlip. She gave the appearance of one thinking deeply, but not as if my suspicions had any roots.

Then she laughed. “But you speak the truth, Amelia! Who indeed would recognize you here. It is true, is it not, Konrad, that our secret has been very well kept? That you have heard no rumors, no speculations? Has that hen-witted lady who waits on our Reverend Abbess asked any questions lately? You will discover, Amelia”—she swung back to me, not waiting for any answers from him—“that the court lives on rumors as hungry men seize upon meat. Dullness is our greatest burden, we hold it at bay with tittle-tattle, whether it
be true or not. A story can run the length of the city as swiftly as a swallow flies. So—Konrad, reassure us— what has been said—what may you have heard?”

He smiled. “Ah, Luise, there is no rumor as yet. The secret has been so well kept that I could almost be led to believe that someone has invoked the aid of a potent hexenmeister to seal lips—”

She shivered and, to my surprise, looked decidedly sober and shaken, even if this was the very answer she had wanted, but the Baron was continuing.

“It is truly accepted by all that our so-worthy Colonel was summoned to attend a dying kinsman in the land from which his family was exiled, while you and the Graf went south to consult a noted physician concerning his gout. You, at least, have been sorely missed, dear lady, the dullness of which you have just complained has been like a gray cloud in our sky. I will not deny there have been some—shall we say—speculations, which as a gentleman I could not think of repeating to you. But of your real errand no, no hint at all!” He had begun his speech in a tone which might have been meant to be lumbering playfulness, but his ending was soberly emphatic, and he was gazing earnestly at the Grafin as if it was very important that she believe his reassurance.

She put on her lighthearted airs again. “So—then if I have brought a new-made friend back with me, why should it not be right and proper for me to show her some of the sights? If my friend is in mourning, she will not be expected to accompany me into society as yet. Does it not arrange itself to our wishes after all?”

“Well enough.” But the Baron did not smile. “However, it is to be wondered what the worthy Colonel might say to your plans.”

“Him!” She snapped her fingers. “What can he do if we say nothing about our desire but simply do as we wish? He would not dare to draw attention to us outside, lest that which he is pledged to keep secret does become a matter upon which the gossipers remark. Always he has been one to take too much on himself,
and more since the Elector has recently shown even more dependence on him. Tell me why, Konrad.” Her voice had the bite of annoyance now. “How and why this—this foreign adventurer, who is no more than a mercenary, a hireling, if one speaks the full truth, has become so great an intimate of His Highness? You spoke of a hexenmeister just now, I tell you this one seems to possess such powers!”

‘It remains”—the Baron's voice was heavy, and now a little cold, as if he had no liking for her frankness— “that the Colonel does have the full favor of the Elector. You know what efforts the Abbess has made in the past, and, before her. Her Highness, the late Electress, to deny him the confidence of His Highness. What came of ail their intriguing, save smarting defeat? As long as he holds his position of trust, you would not be wise to cross him in any matter.”

I felt as if they had forgotten me, and I listened eagerly to learn, even from their tones, some hint of things I must learn. So Colonel Fenwick was currently in the highest favor—but he was not liked by these two. Also he had had and did have other enemies. Was the fact that I had been brought to Axelburg a move in the Colonel's game, someone to be used to make certain his own safety? His master might well have sent him, but once here—what part did or could the Colonel devise for me?

If he understood he was so disliked, and he must— for I knew he was not a fool—why had he chosen the Grafin to be my companion? Or had she, on the other hand, been the selection of another and he given no choice concerning that?

Luise had claimed kinship with me, and with the Elector, even though it rested on no legal relationship. She had never, during all her gossiping, spoken of the Elector himself except with the most respect, plain as she had been about his late wife and his daughter.

I clasped my hands very tightly together, as I had on my first meeting with the Colonel, hoped that my face might hold no more than a look of inquiry or polite
interest. I was not made for intrigue. It frightened, then angered me again. I held to that anger as a sailor might hold to a lifeline. For from it I knew now I could draw strength. From this moment I must think mainly of myself, of what I could do to walk safely through a maze of what might be both doubt and deceit.

Chapter 4

The Gräfin sat up straighter, her rounded chin
expressed, to my eyes, a shadow of sullen obstinacy.

“The Colonel has not seen fit to favor us with any attention since our arrival. I do not think that he would dare to say that we must stay within our own house— if we make no great parade of going out. But—yes—is it not perfect! Tomorrow is Liberation Day and the treasure tower is then open to respectable visitors. Or has the illness of His Highness altered that custom?” She appealed to the Baron.

“There has been no edict to that fact—”

“Then we shall go! Oh, not in a marked carriage. Also, we shall dress as plain as any burgomeister's family—you shall see!” She laughed. “Amelia and I shall be two good friends from the country—wide-eyed provincials, a little dazzled by all the splendors of Axelburg. I shall not even take Katrine. She is too well known, having carried messages for me these many
years. No, nor shall you go with us, Konrad”—her eyes resumed a flirtive side glance—“for you could not possibly hide in any coat sober enough to make you nameless. Just the two of us—for who will expect ladies of rank to be without attendants?—thus we can pass as country cousins, open-mouthed and eyed.

“And, Amelia, it is to be above all things a real adventure! There is always a crowd of the common sort—town worthies and the like—who bring their stodgy relatives to see the wonders. We shall go in the early afternoon when the press is the greatest. You must see the sights of Hesse-Dohna, especially the Great Treasure!”

To me such an expedition was more than just a chance to view my grandfather's collection. Now I would be able to learn what lay beyond these walls. If there might be any way to help myself to some independence, it could only lie through such knowledge.

“I do not like the idea—” the Baron began.

“Only because you cannot be a part of it. Confess it, Konrad, is that not the truth? What harm can come from what we would do? No other one but Fenwick has seen the Countess, and I shall myself take such care not to be recognized as you will not believe!” She touched the tip of her upturned nose. “Shall I even set a wart here, Konrad, pencil a wrinkle here and here?” The finger now sped from the corner of one eye to the other. “Oh, I shall put on years, and Amelia might even be my daughter. It is a famous plan!”

She gave a little bound on the settee—like a school girl envisioning a picnic. Some of the overflow of her mood reached me—enough to make me eager to try the venture for more reasons than one.

The Grafin's idea of disguise appeared mainly to be the forsaking of a riotously plumed bonnet for one trimmed with a cluster of ribbon loops and a quite large nosegay of flowers. Her muslin dress (for the day turned out to be overwarm) was sprigged and beruffled wherever there was space for any trimming to be applied.
Seated beside her, my far more simple white dress with only black ribbon trimming and a straw cottage bonnet, I might well have presented the appearance of a superior servant, perhaps even a personal maid.

Save that here in Hesse-Dohna even Katrine went clad in what could only be a form of peasant dress, full skirted, aproned, and with a blouse worked in bands of blue and red stitchery. Out of the carriage window I now saw many versions of this same garb. The stitchery might vary in color and pattern, the skirt be slightly longer or shorter, hair might be braided with ribbons, lying across the shoulders, or else drawn severely up, to be hidden under a tall muslin cap which had a close resemblance to the helmet of a grenadier.

We did not travel in a crested carriage—as the Grafin had promised—rather in a small, plain barouch. The trip was necessarily a slow one, since the streets of Axelburg were, for the most part, narrow, the pavement cobbled; so we jolted about, and both of us needed to keep a firm grip on looped sidestraps at hand's reach.

Many of the houses were picked out with colored paint, dabbed either over the carving which edged the eaves and framed doors and windows, or on the walls themselves. Such had faded, but the brilliant sunlight brought it back to life, while many of the buildings we rocked by possessed flower boxes set along upper window sills, filled with blooms.

Yet, in spite of all this color, there was something overawingly ancient about those houses, a strangeness which hinted to me of a darker past. I did not know what made that particular fantasy grow in my mind. However, once it had, I was able to sight the sooner the grotesque bits of carving which were ugly—leering, fanged faces, twisted bodies, beasts such as certainly never had walked this earth, save through the troubled nightmare of those who slept ill.

Our coachman continually cried out hoarsely, cracking out with his whip, to clear our passage. Now and then the Grafin caught at my arm, raising her voice to be heard above his clamor so she might call my
attention to this or that landmark. There were even two churches so imposing that they might well claim the distinction of cathedrals.

The larger was also carved and adorned with all manner of elaborate stonework. It stood in a market square, and because of the throng gathered there, we could not approach it closely. To my surprise, the carriage halted and the Gräfin loosed her hold on the strap to point to the taller of the church's towers.

What she might be saying was lost in a sudden clamor of bells. A door high up on the wall of the tower opened and along an outside ledge there marched a procession of small figures. At least those appeared small from where we sat, but they must have been of respectable size or we would not have seen them at all. First came a knight in heavy armor, his head hidden by a helm on which crouched a mythical beast. One hand held the reins of his mount, but looped in the other, which had fallen to his side, were a number of chains. These trailed out behind him dragging a group of prisoners. By their odd garb and headgear they appeared to be of another nationality or even race than their conqueror. Some tottered as men might who were close to the end of their strength. Others crept on hands and knees, the artist who had portrayed them being a master at conveying their helpless agony.

Forward went the horseman, behind him dragged the captives, while the bells tolled, seeming more to suggest an overwhelming defeat than a triumph. Another door opened and the procession vanished within it. The Gräfin looked at me proudly.

“The Prince Axel,” she announced, “our own ancestor. So he returned from battle when the infidels threatened Hesse-Dohna long ago. Our people do not forget. He was a great prince, we have much to be proud that we share his blood.” There was pride mirrored in her face. The spectacle over, she rapped the edge of the driver's seat with her parasol and we drove on.

“This is Axel's city, much of it arose by his order. He had the Kriche of the Captives built—it took most
of his lifetime before the last stone was laid. It was his grandson who brought a man from Nuremburg to make the Prince's procession so his great deeds would never be forgotten. The Princes of our house are all buried in the crypt and only royal brides can be married there.”

“A most unusual sight,” I commented, but thought to myself that the unknown artist had certainly emphasized the cruelty of the times in his treatment of the captives.

There was the beginning of a frown on the Gräfin's face.

“How strange you must be—you people of the colonies. Does no feeling of pride rise in you seeing evidence of the greatness from which you spring?”

“There are no longer American colonies,” I returned sharply. “We are a nation free of any foreign tie—”

“Ah, now I have, as some say, trod upon your toes! But, Amelia, this is now your home, is that not so? Do you not feel a part of it?” She made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “So sober you always are! Look, is not this a pleasure to the eye. See the flowers, the happy faces—listen, there is singing!”

We were almost out of the confusion of the market square, and I had to admit that the color, the air of festivity did impress me, in spite of my struggle to remain an onlooker only. Seated on benches outside an obvious tavern, some young men were singing lustily a roaring air which did touch some emotion, so I could imagine soldiers marching from a victory.

“A war song—” I spoke my impression aloud.

The Gräfin nodded. “It speaks of the Fatherland, of battles fought and won. Does it not make the blood race—even if one is only a female? Ah, now our ride becomes more smooth—”

Our carriage had emerged from the older part of town onto a wide avenue where the pavement was meant for faster travel. Before us spread the fan of the palace, its windows glittering in the sun, a spread of formal garden edging it with green behind a fencing
of fanciful wrought iron. A wide gate faced the avenue down which we, and a number of other carriages proceeded. Only one leaf of that was not open and I remembered another scrap of custom—only a reigning prince himself could drive through a completely open gate, or enter double doors with both thrown wide at once to admit his august presence.

We did not head for the impressive great entrance of the main block of the palace, but turned right, to where the East Tower raised against the blue of the sky. Seen closer, that remnant of a dangerous and rougher past looked even more out of keeping.

The rudely dressed stone of the walls did not match with the formal grace which had been wedded to it. It remained a grim reminder suggesting dungeons, darkness— Again I felt the fleeting touch of fear. Part of my dream flashed into mind—the cover of the night-light in my bedroom—had it not been fashioned in a shape not unlike the tower?

Gathered around the door was the crowd the Gräfin had foreseen, the bright scarlet jackets of sentries standing out here and there. It was, of course, folly to think I might see Colonel Fenwick here. Yet for a moment I had the oddest wish that one of those brilliant coats might be his, and he would be waiting for us.

In spite of all her frills and curls it was perfectly true that the Gräfin would attract no attention. For a number of the females were tricked out in even more elaborate costumes. My own plain garb was far more noticeable, though I saw others in the line formed to be admitted who were no more fashionable than I.

As the line of sightseers made a decorous way between the soldiers and into the interior of the tower, we stepped from the brilliance of day into a dazzle of another light. By the aid of this it was easy to see the Elector did possess more than one kind of protection for his treasure house, willing though he might be for his subjects to come and admire.

The slit windows of the room had been closed with sheets of metal very closely fitted to the old stone. Before
these, as well as on brackets of fanciful design all along the walls, were set burning lamps. There were so many of these they rivaled the sun outside.

Also our passage was limited to a confined space by walls of bars, unpleasantly suggesting, in spite of the fact they were gilded, those of a prison cell. Behind these on either side appeared the first examples of the “treasure.”

These objects were more appropriate to the general setting than those other fabulous rooms the Gräfin had described to me. For here, on mounted stands, was armor certainly never intended to be worn in actual combat, for it was so inlaid with gold and set with gems as to seem fitting only for use on state occasions by some fairy tale prince. There were display racks of swords, the hilts of which sparkled with jewels, the scabbards wrought of gold and more gleaming stones. Nor were pistols and guns missing, though again they were begemmed masterpieces of inlay. Helmets, which more resembled crowns than protective covering for a fighter, were mounted on dead-eyed marble busts. It was as if danger could only be faced by the rulers of Hesse-Dohna when they wore their ransoms on their persons.

The number of burning lamps and the crowding of the spectators so heated the room, I felt a breathless desire to gain more air. However, there was no turning back, for more ranks of visitors shuffled on one's heels. I strove to push away not only the sense of imprisonment which gripped me, but to reach the foot of the stair ahead.

It seemed the Gräfin found little here worth her attention and by some nimbleness of foot we began to climb, to come out once more on a bar-walled corridor down the middle of a chamber of red and gold walls, the famous lacquer room.

The passage was much narrower here, and once or twice the Gräfin fell a little behind. I could see already that visitors could proceed no farther today, for, though there was another stair, that had been closed off by a
grill gate. When the sightseers reached that point they went to the left, through an archway which much connect with the palace itself.

The Gräfin plucked at my sleeve, slowing my pace. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to be out of this place. But she continued to urge that I look at this or that wonder. In other circumstances I might well have lingered by my own desire. But the precious objects seemed to me to be so crowded together, the heat of the lamps so great, that I felt both blinded and stifled. I had only a confused impression of cups and coffers cut in strange forms out of crystal or malachite, or even more precious materials, so embellished by further ornamentation that what lay beneath was three-quarters hidden. There were strange, even grotesquely ugly figures fashioned in the same way. Far too much to remember or enjoy looking at. In fact the whole display impressed me with being as tasteless as the beplumed bonnets the Gräfin delighted in.

Just before we reached the grill gate where all must turn, we did come upon something which caught my eye and slowed my steps, bringing from me a gasp of pure wonder.

A wide table stood just behind the bar wall and it was backed by a series of mirrors to amplify and repeat what lay before them until one could believe that one had been transformed to the size of a giant now viewing a miniature scene of real life.

Plainly a court had been duplicated in full magnificence. Enameled and begemmed figures, so gracefully and intricately made, so expressive in their tiny faces as to suggest that each was a replica of a living person executed by a master artist, had their places there. On a dais under a crimson canopy there were two thrones, each holding a seated figure. That of a man had his head turned toward his companion, one hand raised to beckon to several others who stood below the steps of the throne platform. Each of these bore either a cushion or a tray on which rested, in minute detail, tiny jewelry, boxes, crystal carvings.